Always Hoping
by TeamGredAndForge
Summary: A month after the Battle of Hogwarts, George finally leaves his room and goes on a mission: to bring Fred back.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own any of the characters in this story, as that honour belongs to the brilliant J.K. Rowling.**

**A/N: Edited April 18th**

**Always Hoping**

As Molly busied herself around the kitchen, her flaming red hair flyaway around her head, she couldn't seem to empty her head of terrible thoughts. It had been over three months since the Battle of Hogwarts, and despite all the terrible events of that night, Molly had been acting strong for her family. She had to keep her composure, she had to stay strong. But it was so difficult, after all that had happened, after such painful losses.

Molly waved her wand and five rashers of bacon, three sausages, a round of toast, and fried tomatoes flew through the air and threw themselves onto a plate on the vast pine-wood table, splattering the wood with the red juices of the tomato. Molly sank into a chair, wiping her brow in the heat of the kitchen.

Barely a minute passed by when Arthur Weasley's steps were heard clattering down the stairs. Molly looked up to see her husbands tired, thin face emerge from around the corner.

"Morning, Molly." He sat down in front of the plate; his face wrinkled when he noticed the slap-hazard way his breakfast had been thrown together, but he said nothing. Molly's cooking had deteriorated since the Battle, but Arthur knew better than to press the subject.

"First day back at work today," he said cheerfully, trying to get some kind of reaction out of his wife. "Bound to be busy."

"Bound to be," she agreed, smiling at Arthur. Arthur could see straight through her act, even if no one else could. "At least your pay has increased now that Kingsley is Minister for Magic, and you have less hours. Things are looking up for us now."

"And finally everything is okay with Percy now," Arthur continued. "It's nice to be able to see him at work and have a normal conversation with him. Before it was all about avoiding each other."

"Yes, it's nice," Molly said, not very enthusiastically. "When you see him, ask him to come for dinner some time this week, we haven't seen him for a few days."

Arthur agreed, smiling back at his wife. This had been going on every day, their smiling, friendly conversations. They had not had one argument since the Battle- not one. Arthur wished things were back how they had been before, even when You-Know-Who had been in control. At least they were still a family then.

He hurried down his breakfast, continuing the banter between him and Molly, before excusing himself and turning on the spot, disappearing into the air.

Molly sighed, relieved she didn't have to keep straining her muscles to smile; she waved her wand once more and the plate and cutlery floated grimly to the sink, flopping into the water, and the brush began to scrub weakly at the remaining food. Molly took a bite of the round of toast she had in her hand- her appetite had still not returned since the Battle.

She sat staring vacantly at the wall. She didn't know how much later it was when she heard movement above her. The figure was moving slowly and deliberately down the stairs, and it was with shock that she saw the face appear from the stairs.

George's face was thin and hollow, a deathly white, and somehow his skin looked like it was stretched so tight around his jaw and cheekbones that it was close to snapping. His hair had grown longer- it now reached his shoulders- and his bright blue eyes had lost the twinkle they once had. Molly could barely suppress her tears at the sight of her son. He had locked himself in his room for the past two months (he had disappeared completely for a month after Fred's death and it was still a mystery where he had been in that time). Molly didn't know how he had survived in his room all that time, and he had performed a spell on the door so strong that no matter how hard they had tried, no one could get in.

He stood staring at his mother, barely moving, until she hurried forward, finally letting out the tears she had been holding back so long. Molly gripped her son, hugging him, and George hugged her back, not saying a word. He did not cry, he did not speak, she could barely hear him breathe. Molly's tears flowed, she could hardly take a breath from sobbing, with relief or remorse she did not know. Finally, she let George go.

"George, my Georgie." She began to cry again.

"Don't cry, Mum." She stopped crying abruptly at the sound of his voice. He sounded the same, although his throat was clearly dry. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I did this to you."

"Don't be sorry," she said, once again holding in the tears that were welling up. "You're back now. It's all okay."

"The shop? What's happened to it?" He sounded weary, as if he simply couldn't be bothered any more.

"It's fine darling, Ron is looking after it, keeping it going."

George smiled weakly. "Well... that's good."

The two stood in silence until George took another deep breath. "I'm not staying Mum, I'm sorry. I have to go."

"W...what? Where? Why?" She began crying again. "Please, George, d...don't leave us again!"

"Mum, please, stop crying!" he said in anguish. "Please, you don't understand. I can't stay here, not with all these... memories. It's too painful."

"But where will you go?"

He hesitated, as if he wasn't sure what to say to her question. "I don't know yet, anywhere. I will be back though."

"When?"

"When I've brought Fred back to life." Molly's mouth dropped in shock but George didn't seem to have noticed.

With that, he turned away from his mother and Disapperated. Molly sank onto the floor in floods of tears; not only had she lost Fred, now she had lost George.

* * *

Ron stood behind the counter, marvelling at how the crowds seemed to keep coming. Not one day had been bad for business as yet, and Ron knew he had to keep going until George was... back. He watched random members of the crowd- he loved people watching, and seeing the joy on the faces of the children when their parents brought them a Pygmy Puff, or the interest on the faces of an Auror as they tried out the Peruvian Instant-Darkness Powder.

His eyes then fell on the back of a figure he recognised. But no, it couldn't be... he was imagining it. Lots of people had red hair, and it was too long anyway for the person he knew. And then the figure turned around, and from the side Ron immediately knew it _was_ George. He hurried forwards, rushing through the crowds to greet him, to hug his brother. But it was too late. George had seen him, and the expression on his face before he turned and disappeared was one of pain and sorrow.

* * *

Arthur Weasley sat at his desk, reading through the unending list of Muggle artefacts that had been cursed in the past month. He had expected a lot of work, but never this much. He sighed and rubbed his temples. Behind him, hidden from view, George watched. He turned away from his father, left the building and Disapperated.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed the first chapter (: Please story-alert and wait for the next chapter, which I promise will be soon (: **

**A/A/N: First edited chapter, the only main difference is that I've changed the time the story is set, it's now three months after Fred's death, not one month, so if you're reading on and I haven't edited the next chapters yet, then the times won't make sense- yet. So story alert if you liked this and I will work on editing the next chapters as soon as possible! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Edited April 19th**

**Chapter 2:**

When George Disapparated from the Ministry, he found himself at Windermere Lake in the Lake District. Snow-topped mountains towered around him in every direction and the lake was utterly still, with the occasional ripple where a falling leaf had landed. The view took his breath away- he and Fred had always talked about coming here when they were younger, just the two of them. They had planned on swimming in the icy cold water and spending the night here. But they never had. George glanced into the water and Fred looked back at him. He smiled.

"Back again, are we?" Fred laughed.

"Of course. Have I gone a day yet without talking to you?" George reached out towards the reflection but never touched the still, clear water. He didn't want to disturb Fred's face, just in case he disappeared and left George alone.

Fred grinned. "No, you never have."

George looked away from the water and stared into the distance. "I've done it, Fred, I've left them. I've been thinking about doing it for a few weeks now, and now I have."

Fred's grin left his face. "You shouldn't have done that, George. You know there's no hope."

"Of course there's hope! As long as I can see you, there's hope." George cried in distress.

"But, George, you will always see me. Every time you look in the mirror, in the water, in the glass, you'll see me."

George's face screwed up in anguish. "I can't help that. I still have hope, even if you don't."

"There isn't hope, George. Don't you think that, if there's a way to bring someone back, someone would have found it already? You're not the only person to have lost someone close to them."

"Fred, you were my _twin. _Yes, other people have lost family or a friend. But you were both of them to me, and more. How can anyone else understand what it's like?"

"That doesn't matter. You've left our family, George. You can't do that, you know what a state you will leave them in. Especially Mum. You can't afford to be selfish right now, it's not fair to them."

"I'm sorry, Fred, but you're the most important person to me. I want them to be happy, but what can I do?"

"Go back to them."

George turned his back on the lake. "No, I can't. I can't give up hope. It's okay for you, you don't have to live through this. I do, I have to carry on, live without you. You don't understand how I feel!"

And with that, George left the lake, running from Fred and running from the world.

* * *

When Arthur arrived home from work he found his wife on the kitchen floor, her face red and tear-stricken. His stomach flew up into his mouth. He rushed forward and helped her up onto a chair, worried that she had finally broken.

"Molly, dear, what's happened?"

She turned her face up to his and began to cry again, and he hugged her until she stopped. "It's George, Arthur, he's gone."

Arthur stiffened. "Gone? What do you mean? He's been upstairs for weeks and weeks, are you saying he hasn't even been there this whole time?"

"N...no, he has been there, until now. He came downstairs this morning. He looked... terrible. He said he was sorry, and then... he just left."

Arthur stood silent, shocked. He eventually managed to say:

"But... why? Did he say why?"

Molly's lip trembled. "He said... he's going to try and bring Fred back."

Arthur sighed. "He must know that it's impossible."

"Of course he knows. But admitting that would be giving himself up to a life without Fred." She hesitated. "Do you think we're wrong Arthur, to have already given up?"

Arthur patted her on the arm. "No, we're not wrong, we are just being realistic." He smiled at her and she pulled him into a hug, grateful that she still had him at her side.

* * *

George was walking down a muggle street somewhere in Scotland. He had no idea where he was, but he enjoyed the bitter cold wind of Scotland on his face. The fresh air felt like a breath of life to him after three months trapped in his room. The last time he had been outside before today had been Fred's funeral, the day after the Battle.

_George had sat alone on the front row, staring forwards at nothing in particular.. His family had avoided him, almost scared of him after he had had to be restrained when they took Fred's body away. George hadn't wanted to let them take him away, he had stayed by his side for a solid 12 hours while his family just stood and cried. He had not even shed a tear. No matter how much he wanted to, he simply couldn't cry. He was completely empty._

_When Bill, Charlie, Arthur and Ron had carried Fred's coffin down the aisle, they faces stained with tears, George hadn't been able to look. By this time only Ginny had dared to sit by him. She had her arm around him, although she was the one who was crying. George was in a trance throughout the whole funeral, and afterwards, when the many people who had attended to say goodbye to Fred approached George to offer their condolences, all he could do was nod. Eventually everyone had left but him and Ginny. The body of Fred still lay at the front, the ghost of a smile still etched on his face. _

_It took hours for him to go to Fred's body, but Ginny stayed with him the whole time, neither of them speaking or indeed communicating at all. George looked down at the body of his brother, and Ginny began to cry again. He stood for he didn't know how long, staring at the still, glassy eyes of his twin. He reached down, and gently closed his eyes._

"_There, now you're at peace," he said softly. "But don't worry, Fred. I won't give up hope. I'll bring you back somehow."_

_George turned away for the last time, and as he walked back towards the school Ginny could have sworn she saw him smile._

* * *

**A/N: Ahhhh I'm making myself cry. I swear, they had better not brush away Fred's death in the film... Anyway, Hope you are enjoying it so far :)**

**A/A/N: After the edit there are only a few changes here, once again changed the time periods to make sense, and a few extra details and some speech has been added. Hope you like (:**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Edit, April 21st**

**Chapter 3**

Molly was sat at the kitchen table, gazing out of the window at her front yard. The chickens hurried about the yard, pecking manically at every inch of ground. Molly chewed the end of her sugar quill, lost in thought. It had been two days since George had left, and he had left a gaping hole in her soul. She missed him more than anything, and it seemed like no one understood. Arthur had been more subdued than usual, which was understandable, but nothing could be stronger than that mother-son bond. Except, of course, that bond between twins, the bond that Fred and George had had.

Suddenly Molly understood. She understood why George had gone. Eventually he would find out that there was no hope, but maybe then he would be at peace with himself. Of course it would take him longer than most, he had lost the most important person in his life. Molly herself had not got over the death of her son, it still shattered her heart to think that she would never see him smile at her and she would never see her twin sons laughing with each other again. She fought back the tears that welled up every time she thought of the loss of Fred, and turned back to the letter she planned to write.

_Dear Ginny, _she wrote.

_How is your last year going? I hope you're studying really hard to get your NEWTs and I trust you to do brilliantly._

_I'm really sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but George left two days ago. He came downstairs, he said sorry, and then he left. He said he isn't coming home until he has brought Fred back. _

_I know this is a shock, and I'm so sorry. But if you see him, or if he writes to you, or visits you, please tell him to come home. I know he was closest to you after Fred, so I am sorry, I really am._

_Love you_

_Mum x_

Molly put down her quill, reading over the letter. She felt terrible about the letter, no good news to give. Especially at such an important time for her. She folded the letter, enveloped it, and gave it to Errol, who fluttered his wings and glared at her in a disgruntled manner. He eventually took the letter in his beak and flew away. Molly watched until he was a speck on the skyline and then she sighed, going back to her cleaning to get her mind off the mess her family was in.

* * *

**A/N: Will write more tomorrow, please review? It will be greatly appreciated :)**

**A/A/N: Not much changed in this chapter, no difference to the plot, so keep a look out and I'll be posting more edits ASAP and the epilogue is also well under way (: Thanks for reading, please review! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Edit: June 12, 2011**

**Chapter 4:**

Hermione Granger sat at her desk, surrounded by memos that persisted in flying around her head, occasionally flying into her impatiently. She felt bogged down by the mountain of work that had been piling up every day since she had started work with Kingsley, helping to restore the Ministry and make it better than it ever was before. She sighed and took a memo at random from the air.

_ Come and see me as soon as you can, it's urgent, Love Ron_

Hermione glanced uncertainly at the swarm of memos around her head; should she leave work and let it pile yet higher?

It didn't take her long to decide- for Hermione, the most important thing in her life was Ron. She put down her quill, glanced around the corridors outside her office to check no one was about, and hurried outside, promptly Disapparating to the shop to find Ron.

* * *

Ron was sat in the back of the shop; he had left his young employee in charge. He had been waiting almost half an hour now, and he was beginning to think she wouldn't come. He had almost resigned to this and was about to go back into the shop when he saw a bush of brown hair appear in front of his eyes. Hermione ran towards Ron and hugged him tight. He looked deep into her chocolate brown eyes, thankful that he had her with him. They hugged again, and he simply held her, breathing in her scent of peppermint. Finally, he drew back, ready to tell her what had happened.

"I saw George today." Hermione drew in a sharp breath but said nothing, and simply nodded at Ron to continue. "I saw him in the shop, he was in the crowd, simply...staring around. It was like he was trying to take it all in, trying to remember it. And when I saw him, I tried to get to him... there were so many people, it took me so long to push through them." She smiled weakly and patted his arm sympathetically. "By the time I got to him, he had seen me, and then... he vanished. Disapparated."

Hermione stood still, silent with shock.

"He didn't even speak to you? Say hello, or sorry for everything that's happened?"

"No, he said nothing. Like he...wanted to see me, but didn't want to speak to me."

"Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry!" Her eyes were full of remorse, and he took her hand and squeezed it.

"It's not your fault, its not anybody's fault. Voldemort is the one who did this, he started the war that killed Fred."

"And, George, how did he look?"

"He looked... tired. He was thin and pale, unhealthy looking. His hair had grown long but he was still smooth-shaven. But his face, when he saw me... I've never seen an expression like it. He looked like he was in pain, a look of pure remorse and and sadness." He trembled, but kept his composure. "What if I never see him again, Hermione? What if I lose him like we lost Fred? I don't know what I will do. His face, when he vanished, it will haunt me forever."

Hermione could say nothing. She hugged him and prayed for a miracle- a miracle where George would come home. Where he would put the family together again and fill in the holes in their hearts that only he could fill.

* * *

George had been walking now for what seemed like hours. He was still in Scotland, but he was slowly travelling further north and the weather was becoming more bitter by the hour. As he passed windows of abandoned antique shops he cringed at his own reflection. The face that stared back at him was filled with sadness. Even Fred wasn't laughing any more. Fred knew it was wrong, he knew that George had to go back to his family. But George wouldn't give up, he refused to let go of the the other part of him. George was nothing alone, it was always Fred and George. That would never change as far as he was concerned.

George walked for about another three miles until he found himself at the borders of a vast expansion of trees. The snow topped pine trees stretched up to the sky; stars covered the night, shining in a way George had never seen before. There was no light pollution here. He took a moment to stare up at the stars. There were millions, billions even. He could easily have spent hours watching the moon move from one side of the sky to the other, but it was far to cold for him to even contemplate it..

George pushed back the branches of the thick bushes that lined the borders of the forest; when he had got through, he found a dry spot sheltered by the trees and conjured up a small tent, which he crawled into, shivering not just from the cold, but from the loneliness.

If George could see the sky, he would have spotted a shooting star. It was only there for a moment, but it shone brighter than anything else that night. George may have felt that his life was only darkness, but there is always a light, somewhere.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked this chapter, please review and wait for the next chapter, which I hope to post tomorrow (:**

**A/A/N: This edit has changed some vocabulary, and occasionally some speech, but the main change is the final section with George, especially the part about the stars. Has anyone noticed the occasional hints that Fred could represent the rational side of George? Kind of ironic I think, since I always imagined George to be the rational one of the twins. Still, everything changed once Fred died, right? Hope you like my changes anyway, please review and tell me what you think! :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The next morning, Ron and Hermione decided to visit Mr and Mrs Weasley. They must have realised that George had gone, and Ron and Hermione were worried about how they (especially Mrs Weasley) had reacted.

Hermione cooked pancakes for herself and Ron- ever since the end of the War, her cooking had improved dramatically- and when they had finished Hermione cleaned the dishes with a quick flick of her wand.

The two of them were living in Hermione's house, for the moment. Hermione was having difficulty arranging her parent's return from Australia, it seemed Mr and Mrs Granger had gone on a 'short holiday' to New Zealand. As yet they had been away for a month and Hermione had to wait for them to return to their 'home' in Australia before she would bring them home to England. Since Hermione would have been living alone, Ron had volunteered to stay with her, with suited them both just fine.

Once Hermione had successfully cleaned her parent's kitchen, the pair of them turned on the spot, promptly appearing at the Burrow. Mrs Weasley saw them immediately and rushed out to greet them, hugging her son first, and then Hermione.

"Thank God you've come," she said to them. "It's been so lonely in the house, with just Arthur and I."

She waited, expecting Ron to ask where George had gone, but she got no reply.

"George left three days ago; he said he isn't coming back until he has brought Fred back to life."

Hermione gasped and clamped her hands over her mouth while Ron just stood gaping at Mrs Weasley.

"He must be mad... he must be. To bring a person back to life is impossible, isn't it Hermione?" Hermione didn't answer. "Hermione? It's impossible isn't it?" His voice grew more uncertain by the second.

"Yes... of course it's impossible... of course it is," she breathed; her face was filled with shock and Ron knew something was wrong.

"What is it? You know something, don't you?" He moved closer and put his arm around her, trying to comfort her.

"It's just... I know that Fred and George were looking into different kinds of magic to use in their products before Fred... well they found tribes all over the world, one example would be a tribe from Peru, where they found the magic for their Peruvian Darkness Powder... and I know that they found a tribe in Scotland, a Gaelic tribe, and there were stories... ridiculous, of course... that the legend was true."

"What legend?" Ron was growing increasingly worried about where this was going to end up.

"The story goes that, 500 years ago, there was a small Muggle Gaelic tribe living in a forest in the far north of Scotland. The King's men were pillaging and burning, destroying villages that weren't paying tax. The King would kill and destroy hundreds of families for the sake of money. So of course, when the soldiers found this tribe, they killed them all for not paying tax . In the most horrific ways. All of them, the women, the children, all of them. Only one of them survived. Aislinn Lìos was a young witch, about early 20s, and she had fallen in love with a Muggle named Cairbre. She had left her magical tribe from further north to live with her love; but she couldn't stop the soldiers from killing the tribe, there were too many of them. However, she could when she wasn't so outnumbered, so in the night she found the soldiers and killed them all in their sleep- every last one. The soldier who had murdered Cairbre was the last to be killed, and she ripped out his heart, just like he had broken hers."

Ron looked revolted and Mrs Weasley looked shocked and slightly sick.

"The legend says that Aislinn travelled back to her home tribe, and learned a new kind of magic where she used the soldier's heart and the soldier's soul to bring Cairbre back to life. And the story stops there- Aislinn succeeded and the two of them lived the rest of their lives together."

By this time Mrs Weasley was feeling weak at the knees and Hermione and Ron had to help her inside, lowering her into one of the seats by the vast kitchen table.

"But it's all nonsense of course! It's a legend, that's all!" Hermione tried to reassure Mrs Weasley. Ron looked at her warningly; he knew when his mother was like this the best thing to do was to simply say nothing.

"This...myth... you say there were rumours that it wasn't a story at all? That it's _true?_"

Hermione hesitated. "There have been rumours, in the far north of Scotland, that yes. It's true." She laughed. "But it's clearly not! Of _course _it isn't true! It's impossible! It goes entirely against the laws of magic. It states clearly in..." she faltered at Ron's look that said clearly 'you are saying the wrong thing'.

"George... the state he was in... I think Fred's death has sent him mad." Mrs Weasley looked terrified. "He would do anything- _anything_- to get him back. I'm so worried that he's going to do something...reckless."

Hermione and Ron could say nothing to comfort her, because they knew she was right. George would do anything to bring Fred back, and if it would mean committing murder, they were sure he would do it.

* * *

**A/N: Know it's been a few days since I updated, been completely tied up with school ¬.¬ But I hope to upload a few chapters over the weekend (: Please review, thanks for reading (:**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Ginny woke up in her dormitory at Hogwarts to a dull, cloudy day. Rays of sunshine were trying to break through the thick, grey clouds, but to no avail. Ginny lay on her bed simply staring at the sky outside. Her mind wandered:

_It was the day after the final Battle, and Ginny was stood next to Harry; his arm was around her, and they were watching the bodies of the dead being carried away. Mrs Weasley was sobbing, with Mr Weasley standing behind her, his arm on her shoulder and a look of grief on his face. It took both Bill and Charlie to restrain George as Percy helped Lee Jordan to carry Fred's body away. George was not crying- he was the only one there who wasn't; tears were falling silently from Bill and Charlie's bright blue eyes as they held George back, who was shouting Fred's name, urging them not to take him away._

Ginny shuddered. That voice still haunted her.

_"No! Don't take him away, stop it, stop it! Bring him back!" George's voice echoed through the grounds, a shout of anguish and grief, begging them not to take Fred away. His voice penetrated their minds, their very skin. It made them shiver, the pure sound of mourning. When Fred's body had gone, Bill and Charlie let George go, who stormed away towards the forest. Mrs Weasley had moved to go after him, but Mr Weasley stopped her, pulling her back. He knew that George wanted to be alone. Harry simply stood and watched, while Ginny cried into his shoulder, for George as much as for Fred._

Ginny pulled her eyes away from the window, forcing herself to rise. Ten minutes later, she trudged into the Great Hall and took a seat next to Dennis Creevey, who had insisted on coming back to Hogwarts, despite the death of his brother. Ginny turned away from Dennis, trying to ignore the hole in her heart that grew deeper every time she thought about the losses of that terrible night. She helped herself to toast and spread it thickly with black current jam when she heard the owls fly overhead. She looked up, automatically spotting Errol through the mass of other owls. He was looking even more ancient now- feathers stuck up at all angles and he crashed into the milk jug, spraying Ginny and a group of disgruntled looking fourth-years ahead of her.

Ginny picked up the letter that Errol had dropped in front of her and slit it open. Her mother's writing looked unusually untidy. She read the letter, her expression slowly revealing shock. Luna Lovegood, who was sat on the Ravenclaw table, noticed Ginny's face and moved to sit on Ginny's other side.

"What's up, Ginny? What's the letter say?"

Ginny shook her head in disbelief. "George has ran away from The Burrow. Mum reckons he's gone to try and find a way to bring Fred back to life." She looked from the letter to Luna, still shaking her head, her fiery red hair whipping her pale skin. "That's it, he's gone off his rocker. I knew he was planning something when he was locked in his room. And now he's finally lost it."

Luna did not look shocked or even mildly perturbed by the news. "I think it's a very sensible thing to do, really. After all, if I lost someone who was basically my other half, it's what I'd do. It's like closure really, isn't it?"

Ginny looked yet more disbelievingly at Luna. "Why would you do that though? You would still know, wouldn't you, that it's..._impossible..._to bring someone back to life!"

"It's not impossible," said Luna, as if this was something completely obvious.

"Luna, what honestly makes you think it's possible?" she laughed, thinking this was just another of Luna's ridiculous beliefs.

"I think if something is worth that much, then it's worth believing in. Has someone ever proven it's not possible? No, they haven't." She flicked her long platinum blonde hair behind her and gave Ginny a meaningful look. "I think if anyone has the determination to find a way to defeat death, it will be George. I wouldn't worry about it either, I'm sure he won't do anything stupid."

Ginny felt uncertain, but she let the subject drop, moving back to her toast as Luna moved on to talk about her favourite article in this issue of 'The Quibbler'.

* * *

George woke to find it was still dark in Scotland. He checked the time- it was ten to seven. He heaved himself up from his 'bed', which consisted of a thin blanket covering him and another blanket underneath him. He suddenly realised he was freezing; he couldn't feel his fingers or toes, and his skin felt icy to the touch. He desperately tried to warm himself up by rubbing his hands together, but to no avail. He swore under his breath and hurried out of the tent, promptly finding a pile of leaves that were covered in frost and conjuring a fire. He warmed his hands and feet until he could feel them again and then sighed in relief. He couldn't afford to go losing any more limbs after his ear. He subconsciously raised his hand to his ear and felt a gaping hole there. He smiled._ Now there was a way to tell between him and Fred... no, there would have been, if Fred hadn't been killed. _

The anger returned; George kicked out the fire and jumped up. He started to shout, shout things that weren't even words. He bloodied his knuckles as her punched a nearby tree_._

"_Why? Why Fred?" his head screamed._

He ran from the spot where his tent was, until he found himself at a large lake that had frozen solid. He couldn't help but look at his reflection; Fred was crying.

"No, Fred, don't cry! You are the last person who cries, don't cry, please!" he pleaded. Fred stared back at him, tears streaming down his face, silent and mourning. George picked up a nearby rock and smashed the ice, destroying his reflection. If there was one person he couldn't face when they were crying, it was Fred.

* * *

**A/N: Sooo, hope you liked this chapter. Please review, it only takes a few seconds and if you do I swear I will update faster :P Thanks for reading! :D**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

When George got back to his tent, he had long since run out of tears. He packed his tent away and set off further north; he did not need any muggle navigation or even any magic to know which way he had to go- in the far distance he could see that the snow laying on top of the trees was getting thicker. That was the way he had to go- to the coldest regions of Scotland, in the far north.

"Don't worry, Fred," he said, his voice shaking with the cold. "I will find a way soon, I promise."

He battled against the icy wind and the snow for hours until he realised it was approaching dusk. He once again found the most sheltered spot possible and set his tent up. He crawled inside, grateful for the shelter from the hostile climate outside. This time, he knew what to do. He conjured a fire in the air, carefully keeping it away from the edges of the tent, until he was warmer than he had been for days. He extinguished the floating flame and thankfully drifted to sleep.

* * *

George suddenly awoke to hear a shuffling outside his tent. He sat bolt upright, his heart hammering; a person who was shifting around in the forest in Scotland, in the middle of the night, in the bitter cold, was surely up to no good. He realised with horror that he had not protected his tent with enchantments and spells- he was perfectly visible to the wanderer outside. He cursed under his breath- he had no option but to get out of the tent and protect himself.

He was not scared. Who even cared if something happened to him? Ever since Fred's death, it wasn't as if he had been funny, and interesting, like he had used to be. At least if something happened to him, he would be with Fred again.

He climbed outside as quietly as he could.

"Protego," he whispered. Something moved a few feet ahead of him from the depths of the trees. A twig snapped. George barely even dared to breathe. He stayed still and silent, but he could now identify a dark shape moving out of the trees.

"Stupefy!" he shouted, but at the same time he heard the figure shouting "Expelliamus!" He felt his wand whipped out of his hand. He didn't even bother to put up a fight, and simply let his hands fall down by his side.

"Who are you?" the person asked, in a strong Scottish accent, slow and deep.

"Ill tell you if you show yourself," George said, sounding braver than he felt.

"Okay then, but stay back!" the figure warned, and he said "Lumos."

One of the wands the stranger was holding blazed a white light; it was unlike any Lumos spell he had seen before, and the wizard's Expelliamus had got through George's shield. Maybe the magic here was different, maybe even stronger.

The face now illuminated was smudged with dirt; he had straggly brown hair that was matted with leaves- he looked almost wild- and his eyes were a shocking electric blue that shone out from his otherwise dark and dirty appearance. He wore a long brown robe that had leaves and twigs entwined amongst it, which George presumed was used for camouflage, although he didn't understand why they would need it since he doubted there were many travellers who ventured all the way up to the north of Scotland.

"So! Who are you?" the wizard barked. George decided not to argue as the strength of this wizard's spells made him nervous.

"I'm called George, I came up to the far north to find a Gaelic Tribe of witches and wizards. I...I want to find out some information from them."

The stranger's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Swear you have good intentions, that you aren't here to attack them."

"I swear, I only come to ask for help."

The man beckoned to George. "Follow me. My name's Eideard."

* * *

Hermione appeared back in her parent's kitchen with a loud crack. Ron Apparated behind her moments later, after a long drawn out goodbye to his mother, who had been truing to delay their leaving by inventing jobs that needed doing.

Ron knew that his mother wasn't coping with an empty house. Now that George had left, she was alone when Mr Weasley went to work. After well over twenty years of caring for her children, the loneliness was really getting to her, especially since the death of Fred. Ron felt terrible for leaving her, but he couldn't go every day to keep her company. In the end, every parent has to let go of their children.

Ron and Hermione sat at the kitchen table and looked at each other, Ron with a look of worry and Hermione with one of terror.

"You know, don't you Ron?" she said fearfully. "You must understand that George has gone mad?"

Ron nodded grimly. "I understand it. I should have known, really. Alone in that room for a month. He had never been alone, never in his life before Fred died. It would send anyone mad." He shook his head, eyes closed. "Please, Hermione, tell me it's possible to save him."

Hermione did not smile, but nor did she frown.

"Who know? We have no idea how far he's gone. He could just be on the brink. But... I believe no one is ever beyond saving. With any damaged mind, there is always a bit of the person they were before left in there. There is always hope. I think George has the strength to keep going. We just need to help him."

Ron sighed. "I really hope you're right. I cant give up on him, not after Fred. The last thing Fred would want would be for George to be lost."

"Well, the first thing we need to do is to check out who we're dealing with. I'll check the books and research this Gaelic tribe. If we are going to find him, we need to know everything we can about their magic."

Oddly, Ron agreed. "You're right, we can't go looking for George unprepared. Meanwhile, I'd better get back to work and make up a fabulous excuse as to why you aren't there."

Hermione grinned as Ron turned on the spot. _He's really got the hang of Apparation now, _she thought, and with a twirl of her wand she summoned a box about a foot in width and from it withdrew an enormous pile of books. Now she was back doing what she was best at.

* * *

Ron walked up to Kingsley's office, and knocked, slowly and deliberately, on his door.

"Enter," said the person in question's deep booming voice, and Ron obliged.

"Sorry to disturb you, Minister.." Kingsley rolled his eyes. "Come on Weasley, there's no need to call me Minister. I'm still a wizard like you, just with a fancy title."

Ron grinned. "Very sorry, Kingsley."

Kingsley almost smiled, but managed to keep his naturally stern expression. "So, proceed."

"Hermione sends her apologies, she has a terrible bout of Dragon Pox."

"Wow, it's come on so quickly? I only saw her this morning."

Ron turned pink. "Well, it is a particular bad attack."

Kingsley raised his eyebrows. "Doesn't seem very prudent then, does it, for you to be in the Ministry, you could only be spreading the disease? You'd better get off."

Ron nodded thankfully. "Very Sorry Minis... I mean Kingsley. I will get off right away."

Kingsley smiled. "I hope you find him, Weasley." he said as Ron left the room. Ron opened his mouth to ask what he meant, but the door shut behind him. It seemed Kingsley wasn't Minister for Magic for nothing.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it's taken a few days to update, been very busy! I've had to consider my options for A Levels recently, if anyone has any pointers, please review and tell me! I'm really not sure if I should take English or not, so any opinions would be greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading :D **


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

Molly collapsed into a chair. Ron and Hermione had gone home, even after all her attempts to delay their leaving. She felt alone, more alone than she had felt in a long time. She wished she could still have her children with her.

She sat and thought, remembering some of the happiest times in her life.

_Fred and George were seven years old that day. April the First, April-Fools Day. Molly was whistling at the stove, while cooking the full English breakfast. Even at that age, Fred and George had the appetites of grown men. Molly was happily cracking eggs into a frying pan, four other pans containing sausages, bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms gently sizzling away, when Percy stormed downstairs in an obvious rage. _

_Eight years of age, approaching nine, Percy was still the most serious of the children, and his horn-rimmed glasses seemed far to big for his thin face. He was furious, it was clear, and Molly stepped back from her cooking, not before making sure nothing would burn for the twin's birthday breakfast, of course. _

"_What's wrong, Percy dear?"_

_He looked so angry she could imagine steam coming from his ears. "Fred and George! They put a gnome in my bed!" he shouted, his voice shaking with uncontrollable rage. "Imagine the shock I got when I woke up with one of them jumping on my stomach?"_

_Molly sighed; Percy was right, it couldn't have been anyone other than Fred and George._

"_Just calm down, love," she soothed. "It's not the end of the world. In two years you'll be at Hogwarts without the twins. It will all be fine then, won't it?"_

_He breathed deeply. "Yes, you're right," he said, but at the sight of the twins in question bounding down the stairs, their fiery red hair falling over their identical blue eyes, he got angry again. "Explain yourselves, both of you!" he said with the tone of a strict headteacher. "Why did you put a gnome in my bed?"_

"_What do you mean, Perce?" said Fred, his mouth open in faux astonishment._

"_Yeah, I think you need more sleep," said George severely. "You're talking rubbish, it's not like you."_

_Percy began to shake, his face turning rapidly from bright red to purple. _

"_Don't...say...I'm...talking...rubbish." he snarled through gritted teeth, swelling up like a balloon. As he stormed out of the room, Molly saw out of the corner of her eye the twins grin and give each other a high five._

"_Boys," she said, keeping her voice calm, although she had an urge to laugh. "You know you must stop tormenting Percy, you'll drive him mad."_

_George gazed up at his mother with a look of innocence. "Oh, but it's so..."_

"_...hilarious." Fred finished. With that the twins snorted in unison and sank into a fit of laughter._

"_Happy Birthday, anyway," Molly said. "I cooked you an extra special breakfast!"_

"_Birthday?" Fred said, looking puzzled._

"_It's not our birthday, Mum," George continued. "Are you feeling okay?" He reached his hand forward and held it against his mother's forehead with an expression of worry._

_Molly felt her heart drop to her stomach. How could she possibly get her twins' birthday wrong? She was about to stammer her apologies when the twins grinned and said:_

"_April Fools!"_

_Molly sighed in exasperation. You two! You'll be the death of me, I swear."_

"_Oh, but Mum, life would be so boring without us," George wheezed, laughing uncontrollably. _

"_And that, Mother, was by far our best yet!" laughed Fred._

"_Well, since it's your birthday, I'll forget it." She looked at the faces of her twin sons and her heart softened. "Happy Birthday." She hugged then both and thanked the heavens for blessing her with Fred and George._

Molly could feel her eyes welling up at the thought of the twins at seven. They even had their sense of humour then; their mischief was as clever and light hearted as it would always be. Well, it would always of been, if Fred hadn't been murdered.

The thought of how much the Battle had changed the twins and, indeed the whole family, made Molly break down once more. Fred had gone, and he wasn't coming back. George had lost his twin, his best friend. Nothing could change that, and Molly knew deep down that George would never get over it.

* * *

George followed Eideard through the woods for what seemed like hours. They were travelling yet further north and George was no shivering with the cold; meanwhile, Eideard seemed completely unaffected by the weather- in fact he was whistling and swinging his arms, completely at ease.

Eventually George noticed the trees were thinning out, and it wasn't long after he noticed this that they reached a clearing. George's breath was took away by the sight: the trees around the clearing were adorned with lights that emitted a soft, glowing aura; there were about ten small buildings lining the clearing, all made of beautifully intertwined strips of willow. The trees were capped with snow, but unlike the wild of the woods, the snow was magically glittering from the light of a small number of slowly flying, white orbs that pulsed eerily from a bright to a dim white light. Fireflies floated lazily around his head like tiny specks of dust.

George had never been so stunned by beauty such as this. His mouth hung open and he didn't even notice a woman approach him.

"Eideard tells me your name is George," she said in a strange, soft voice. "That isn't a name from around here. I'm Alva, and if I were you I'd tell me your intentions now, if you want to live."

George felt nervous around this woman- she had a powerful presence that he had never experienced before. "I... I came here to find out something that is really important to me... I heard the legend of Aislinn Lìos, and I came to ask about it..."

The witches face softened. "You've lost someone." It wasn't a question.

George nodded. "My twin. Please, tell me you can help me."

The witch sighed. "I'm sorry, George, I really am. The legend is just that- a legend. I wish I could help you, but I can't."

The split in George's heart cracked deeper. He had lost his only hope. He turned away, tears silently trickling down his face. He could see the mouths of the tribes-people moving, but he heard no words. He ran out of the clearing into the depths of the wild; he ran and ran until he had no strength left and collapsed onto his knees.

"I'm sorry, Fred. I've failed you," he whispered into the night.

"_You'll never fail me," _said an almost inaudible voice through the wind."

"No, Fred, stop it!" he cried, desperately clamping his hands over his ears, blocking the voice he neither wanted to hear or lose. "I am sorry, I am, I am!"

"_I'm sorry too, George."

* * *

_

**A/N: I'm sorry it's taken me a bit longer than I anticipated to update. I went to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows yesterday, who else thinks its absolutely amazing? If anyone hasn't seen it, I recommend it. I'm planning on going to see it again soon...**

**Please review, if not to comment on the story but to comment on the film, if you've seen it. Who else loved Fred and George in the film? George's losing ear scene was amazing... is it wrong that I almost cried?**

**And DOBBY? Oh my, I found it very difficult not to cry. RIP Hedwig, Dobby and Mad-Eye. I will miss you all. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

George had not moved for hours. He couldn't feel anything; as far as he could tell, he had no limbs. His tears had long run dry. The voice of Fred had left him, for now.

He was at an utter loss. He didn't know what to do now he had no hope. He dared not even open his eyes for fear that one, glittering snowflake would show him the face he dreaded to see.

The cold was numbing George's body. He could feel himself weakening, but he made no effort to move. If he died here, so what?

His eyes slowly closed for what he was sure would be the last time.

* * *

Eideard didn't know what he was doing. Since when did he help any wizards from the south? But there was something different about this one. He had a haunted look; terror and pain and confusion and every negative thought looked like it had passed through his head.

He had said he had lost a twin. Eideard didn't know what it was like to lose a twin, but he knew the feeling of losing a brother. The pain in his heart still stung every time he thought of his little brother before he had died. He couldn't even imagine losing the one who was your best friend, who _was you_ in every small detail. It would be like losing half of yourself.

His stomach twisted. This wizard had touched him in the way that he was somehow feeling sadness for this lost twin. It was as if he had met him before, like he had lost a friend. This made Eideard want to help George, he didn't deserve to die in the wild like an animal. And the twin wouldn't want his brother to die for him, would he?

Eideard searched for hours for George. He was beginning to lose hope. He feared nature had taken him for her own.

Suddenly, he saw a light in the trees. He followed it, curious as to what this light was. He could never see what the light actually was, it seemed to be keeping at a distance where he couldn't distinguish it. Never the less, Eideard trusted his instincts and continued to follow it.

The light suddenly disappeared, plunging him into darkness. He muttered "Lumos" and studied his surroundings. The tree nearest him ha little snow on it's trunk; living in the forest Eideard could tell if someone had been there, and he knew that a person had passed this place. He moved past the tree, hoping that was the direction George had gone in, and kept walking, occasionally seeing snapped branches and melted snow. Whoever had passed here was not looking where they were going; they had stumbled, running clumsily, not caring if they hit the trees and snapped the branches.

Eideard's suspicions were confirmed when he stumbled upon a body. George was lying on the ground, his eyes closed and his skin deathly white. His breathing was shallow and ragged; snow had begun to settle on him. Eideard rushed to his side, picking him up in his arms and spinning on the spot. He appeared back with the rest of the tribe and hurried into one of the buildings, laying George down onto a table.

"What's this?" Eideard's wife, **Rhoswen** gasped. "Who is this?"

"This is George," he said, feeling out of breath from carrying George- he was becoming old, after all- "he came to us, looking for a cure for death."

"Ha, another one." she said, but she gently placed a soft woollen blanket under George's head. "What's happened to him?"

"He ran into the forest when we told him we couldn't save his twin."

She raised her eyebrow. "Twin? I don't remember ever seeing someone here who had lost their twin."

"Well, I suppose it's rare to have a twin, let alone to lose one at such a young age."

"It's such a tragedy," she said, mixing a strange concoction made of all sorts of plants and herbs. She waved her wand and the mixture hissed and bubbled before turning silver. She hurried over to George and poured a little into his mouth, holding it closed until he swallowed it.

"What made you want to save this one?" she asked her husband, curious. He had met many of people hoping to bring back their loved ones, but never had he gone after the disappointed to save them from the wild.

"He just seemed... different. Like this really was a matter of life and death." He shuddered. "Just, the look on his face, I worried for him. I worried he would do something... stupid."

Rhoswen's heart softened. Even with Eideard's tough exterior, he was a kind and caring man inside. This was why she loved him.

"I just really hope it's not too late. The cold has really got to him, and it seems like he isn't fighting." She worriedly felt George's forehead, wincing at the icy temperature.

"We just have to hope and pray he is going to fight it, otherwise we are going to lose him."

Eideard glanced nervously at his wife, before leaving the hut. He couldn't bear to see such a young person die. But then, that's what death did to people. He really wished he could find a way to cheat death, but what possible way was there. He glanced back at the hut. _Come on George, fight it. Your twin wouldn't want this, no one would want this for you. Don't let Death take you for his own. _

Eideard looked back towards the forest and saw the very same light he had seen before, the light that had led him to George. He rushed towards it, hoping to see what it was, but it disappeared. The light had gone_.

* * *

_

**A/N: Hope you like this chapter! Will update as soon as I can, I have a busy week though, so apologies in advance :P Please review and tell me your thoughts on how the plot is unfolding, heck, take a guess at what is going to happen, I dare you. Thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Blimey Hermione, it's _freezing!_" Ron grumbled, trudging through the snow that was falling thick and fast; it now reached his ankles. The pair of them were now in a forest in the far north of Scotland which Hermione had traced George's tracks to. While Hermione was staying focused on the task in hand, Ron was hating the cold and wished there was a more simple way to find his brother.

Hermione glared at Ron. "Do you want to find George, or not?" She paused, and when Ron said nothing, she said: "Good. Now, be quiet won't you? Are you going to stop moaning? I'm trying to find out which way he went."

Ron rolled his eyes and went back to rubbing his hands. He would have used magic to warm himself up, but Hermione said her tracking spell would be interfered by any magic other than George's.

She balanced her wand on her hand, muttered something that Ron couldn't quite make out, and her wand spun on her hand before stopping in a certain direction.

"It's that way," she said, and Ron followed her through the trees.

At one point, Hermione pushed a branch out her way, which then promptly flung back into Ron's face, leaving him with a face full of snow and an attractive red mark spreading from ear to ear. Hermione didn't even notice, as she was so focused on finding George.

A few hours later, Ron was beginning to get frustrated; they had found no visible evidence that George had been there and Hermione had been utterly silent the whole time they had been walking,

"Hermione, when are we..."

"Sssssshhhh!" she hissed. "I can hear something!"

When Ron listened, he realised she was right. Someone (or something) was moving in the trees. Ron moved forward in front of Hermione, protecting her. Although she was better at magic than him, the person in the trees might be even better than her, and if anyone was going to be hit by a spell, he was not going to let it be Hermione.

"Come out," he said warily. The figure behind the trees moved closer.

"Be careful!" Hermione whispered. "That could be anyone, we don't know if they will hurt us or not."

"It's fine, Hermione, don't worry about me."

The person paused a second, before emerging out of the trees.

"No, I'm not going to curse you! Lower your wands!" the stranger cried.

Hermione lowered her wand gingerly, but Ron kept it up,

"I won't lower mine until you lower yours!" he warned. "Go on! We trust you as much as you trust us, which isn't much!"

The man looked irritated. "Actually, I'm here to help you., but if you're going to act like that then maybe I won't bother."

Hermione pushed Ron out of her way.

"I'm Hermione and this is Ron," she said, being as friendly as she could. "What's your name?"

The man glared at Ron once more, but answered Hermione. "I'm called Eideard and I know who you are looking for."

"George? You've got George?" Ron accused.

Eideard looked positively outraged. "I wouldn't say _got _if I were you, boy. I don't kidnap people." He looked back at Hermione; clearly if he was going to speak civilly to anyone it wasn't going to be Ron.

"George is back at our camp. He ran away when we told him that we couldn't bring his twin back-" Ron groaned, if not with worry for George but in disappointment that Fred couldn't be saved. Hermione however did not look shocked, but was worried all the same.

"I went into the woods to find him, but I fear it was too late. The cold has really got to him," he continued.

"What? No, it can't be too late!" Ron cried.

"He is still breathing, if that's what you mean, but I don't hold out much hope, it seems like George has just... given up."

"He won't give up, he can't," Ron growled.

"Please, can you take us to him?" asked Hermione. "Maybe if Ron was there, he might fight it."

"I hope you're right," Eideard said, and he beckoned to the pair of them to follow him.

* * *

George was drifting. A voice was calling to him.

"Don't do this, George," the voice pleaded.

"What does it matter?" he replied. "Would you want me to live an unhappy life? Because that's what my life would be, forever haunted, forever sad."

"But I don't want to you die either. Why would I want that?"

George couldn't answer the question.

"If you die, you will hurt your family more. Are you a selfish person, George? Would you honestly hurt the others more, just to end your suffering?"

"I... well... no, you're right. I wouldn't."

"George, wake up." the voice said, but George could hear someone else as well.

"Wake up, wake up!" Both voices urged.

George didn't want to, he wanted to keep drifting, but he could feel himself coming back to reality.

"Come on!" The voice was now singular. The voice of his head had gone. "Are you with me, George?" The voice was urgent, desperate. "Please, wake up!"

George opened one bleary eye.

"I will if you stop shouting," he croaked.

The figure next to him (who was not quite clear to George yet- his vision was blurred and distorted) laughed in relief.

"Thank God, George, I thought we'd lost you!"

"Ron, is that you?"

"Yes, it's me."

"W...what are you doing here?" George asked, his throat dry and his head splitting from pain.

"We came to save you, of course!"

"We?" he wondered aloud.

"Yeah, me and Hermione."

"Save me from what?" he asked, although of course he knew the answer.

"We... we were worried you'd do something... stupid." Ron said, looking nervous.

"Oh yeah, thanks," George said sarcastically, but secretly, he knew Ron was right. He rolled over so his back was facing Ron.

"Please, I'm tired," he said. "I don't feel like talking right now."

He could imagine Ron's worried face as he left, but he didn't care. The fact was, he knew it was the best thing for everyone else that he had woken up, but now what was he going to do? Live a life without Fred? Because that was impossible.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked this! Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed so far, it has really encouraged me to write more :D Heck, review again if you feel like it :P It will make my day, really it will. Thanks for reading! :D**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Hermione opened her mouth to argue with George- she clearly didn't trust him to be left on his own- but Ron dragged her out of the hut before she could say anything.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, "You don't honestly believe he just wants 'to rest', do you?"

"No, I don't Hermione, but what choice do we have? 'Oh, actually, no George, I'm not going, I'm going to stay with you every minute of every day for the rest of your life because I don't you not to do something stupid.' That's _really_ going to go down well with him."

Hermione scowled, but Ron continued.

"Anyway, Eideard's wife is in there , and even she is stronger than George is at the moment. You saw the state he's in."

Hermione sighed, resigning. "Yes, I did see him. He was a mess. The question is, what do we do with him now? He can't go through life with someone with him every moment of his existence because of the off chance he'll run again? It's insane!"

Eideard, who had been standing nearby listening to the pair of them bickering, answered Hermione's question before Ron had the chance to even open his mouth.

"There's nothing you can do for him," he said, his voice deep and serious, his face regretful. "It's up to George now. He's the only person who can save himself, who can make a difference to his own life."

And although Ron and Hermione both wanted to disagree with Eideard, they knew he was right.

* * *

George stared at the walls of the hut, admiring the detail, the way the wood was intertwined. At regular intervals there were larger beams of wood supporting the roof. He noticed beautifully ornate carving on these support beams, and he smiled at the intricate detail of small wizards hiding for unseeing Muggles, or a witch laughing while being burnt at the stake.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" said a voice, which belonged to a woman.

"Yes, they are," he answered without turning around to look at his company.

"I did some of them," she said.

"Wow, well done you." There was no sarcasm in his voice (he wasn't cruel) but nor did he mean what he said. "I'm sorry, I just don't want to talk right now."

"I know you don't want to talk," said the woman, "but you can't live the rest of your life like this. Not wanting to talk. Just look at yourself."

"I know, I know what I must look like. But you don't understand."

"Oh, don't I? You feel like your heart has been ripped out? Like you're never going to be happy again? You sometimes look in the mirror and think, just for a second, that you saw your loved one behind you? You sometimes talk to them, before realising that they are there to listen?"

"I...yes, yes that's what it's like, I suppose. But those words don't even come close to describing what it's like fore me. It's literally like I have no feeling any more. Like it's...impossible to feel anything other than mourning."

"I understand." The woman hesitated. "Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like without Eideard."

"You know him?"

"Yes, I'm Rhoswen, Eideard's wife. Without him, it would be like my life has no meaning. Here, life is simple for us. The women have children and care for their family, when the mean hunt and work. So, it he wasn't here, what else could I do? I would have no purpose."

Although George had his back to the woman, he knew she was surveying him.

"Is that how you feel, George? Like you have no meaning?"

George didn't answer, but he knew she had hit the nail on the head. Ever since Fred had died, George felt like he couldn't invent anything else to put in the shop, couldn't make anyone laugh. So what was the point of him? He didn't have any NEWTs, so he couldn't get a job at the Ministry. Anyway, even if he could, he wouldn't want to work there. All he had ever wanted to do was open a joke shop with Fred. Fred wasn't here any more.

"George," said Rhoswen, interrupting his thought, "I just want you to know, whatever you think, you do have a meaning. Everyone's life is worth something, it's just how you use it. Remember that."

And although George said nothing, Rhoswen knew that he had been listening and she knew there was nothing more she could say or do for him.

* * *

Ginny sat next to Luna at the breakfast table. She had heard nothing from her family for a few days now, and although normally that wouldn't worry her in the slightest, she felt nervous. She had expected to have a frantic letter from her mother, about anything. The silence was unnerving.

Luna had obviously noticed Ginny's brooding mood. "What's wrong?" she said, her voice sympathetic. "I sense something's troubling you?"

Ginny sighed. "Yes, you're right." She put down the piece of toast she was holding and stared at the table. "I still haven't heard about George, and I'm starting to worry. I worry what's going on, that maybe Mum hasn't written to me because something's happened."

"Ginny, I haven't got a straight answer for you, because I don't know." Ginny didn't need to look at Luna to know that she was smiling; her personality glowed like that. "I can say this: I know that George will think about doing something stupid, because anyone in his situation would. But he won't, because he still has a family. He may be many things, but he isn't selfish."

"Yeah..." Ginny said, but she didn't feel like having this conversation with Luna at that moment. "Well, thanks, but I'm going to go back up before lessons start, I just want a bit of time to myself."

"Okay," Luna replied. "I understand, I'll see you later." Ginny stood up from the table and left the Great Hall.

Ginny didn't know where she was walking, but she kept going, occasionally hearing the voices of paintings or the clanking of Sir Cadagon's armour ("Stand and fight, ye dog!").

_I wish I could help him, _she kept saying to herself, over and over in her head. _I wish there was something I could do for him. _Suddenly, Ginny heard a creaking sound, and she nervously drew her wand out of her pocket. Pressed against the walls, she edged her way around the corner, but there was nothing there except a door. She could have sworn she had never seen this door before.

Should she open it? Questions kept circling in her mind, nagging her. _Do it. Do it, now! _She stepped forward and opened the door, slowly, tentatively. It was pitch black in the room. "Lumos," she whispered. Her wand illuminated the mysterious room: there were dusty cupboards and wardrobes lining the walls, boxes full of junk and it seemed like there was no end to the rubbish scattered around. She recognised this place. It was the Room of Requirement, and this was where things were hidden. Ginny was wondering why the room had appeared to her when she heard a sound. It was mysterious sound, like the wind in the air.

"Who's there?" she said, shaking. There was no answer. "Show yourself!"

She heard a voice, a voice that took her breath away, that made her freeze where she stood, the voice of an angel.

"Ginny? Is that you?"

* * *

**A/N: So, have you guessed? Please, review and tell me what you think. I'll update as soon as I can, but my mocks start this weeks D: But yeah, hope you're liking the story so far! :D**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:**

_The mayhem that surrounded him could not distract from the dread that filled his thoughts. George had heard an explosion; it had come from the other side of the castle. George was running. He dodged the many curses that head his way, narrowly missing some that could have been fatal to him. He ran like he had never ran before. Something in that explosion had hurt him, he felt a stabbing pain in his heart. A shadow of fear was growing in his mind._

_When he reached the site of the explosion, there was nothing. Stones, huge and broken, were scattered in disarray, but no sign of life was seen or heard. George, however, could still not shake the feeling that haunted him. He made his way towards the Great Hall, where many others were heading._

_The scene inside the Great Hall was chaos. George saw what seemed like hundreds of people, huddled in small crowds, leaning over the wounded and the dead. Then he saw a flash of red, recognising the Weasley hair. He ran towards them, relief flooding through him. Until he saw his mother- he felt a pang of fear. She was shaking; huge, raking sobs were coming from behind her bowing head. His father was comforting her, great tears staining his cheeks. Percy, who was kneeling next to them, was crying silently. George had never seen Percy cry before. _

_The body lying before them was hidden from view, but a terrible, agonising fear was coursing through him. He moved forwards in a daze; Percy spotted him first. He stopped crying abruptly, opening his mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out. _

_George ignored him and kept walking. His mother then saw him. _

"_Ge...George?" she whispered. Mr Weasley said nothing, his eyes filled with remorse._

_George moved around them all, until the body was in full view. His stomach plummeted and bile rose to his throat. This was not happening. _This couldn't be happening. _His legs collapsed from beneath him, still metres away from the huddle that was his family._

_The body, cold and chalk white in death, was Fred.

* * *

_

George woke up with a start. Beads of sweat had formed on his head and he was shaking.

"Georgie?" It was his mother.

"Mum? Wha... how did I get here?"

She smiled weakly and came to sit on the side of his bed. Fred's bed lay untouched on the other side of the room, gradually gathering dust. George felt a sharp pang in his stomach when he saw the bed, and looked away.

"Ron and Hermione brought you home while you were sleeping," she said. "But... they... we all thought it would be best for you," she added hastily when she saw the look on George's face.

"What about Eideard and Rhoswen?" he said, frowning. "After all they did for me, you just took me _away?_ Without even saying 'thank you'?"

Molly bit her lip. "Well, we said thank you. Of course we did," she said desperately. "But, you were more important, you were in such a bad state! I just wanted you to get better, and out there, even if you were inside, it was so, so cold, and that's not going to help you get better. Home is obviously the best place..." she trailed off. George was narrowing his eyes dangerously. "Okay, I'll just leave you to feel better..." she said nervously.

"Yeah, you do that," he replied, a slight hint of sarcasm in his voice. He didn't want to upset her, that was the last thing he wanted. But he was angry, he couldn't deny it. By bringing him back home, without him even _realising, _they were treating him like a child.

_You shouldn't push them away, George._

He winced as the voice in his head returned. "They shouldn't treat me like I'm four," he thought lamely.

_Don't make excuses. You can't expect them to act the same as normal around you after the way you've been, after the things you've done. You ran away, for crying out loud, they are obviously going to treat you differently._

"Stop it Fred, stop it. Not you."

_You need to get over me, George. You need to forget me._

"You wouldn't say that," he said, tears streaming down his cheeks. "You would never tell me to forget you. Just, go Fred, go. Please, GO AWAY."

He regretted it the moment he said it. "Fred?" he whispered, his rage vanishing rapidly. "Fred, are you there?"

There was no reply.

"Fred, please, I didn't mean it, you know I didn't mean it!" He jumped up from the bed and ran across the room, looking desperately into the mirror for the first time in a long, long time. "Fred, talk to me!" The face staring back at him was crying, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. And then George saw it. The reflection had only one ear.

"No!" he cried, and he raised his fist and slammed it into the mirror, which shattered, breaking his image and sending shards of the mirror in all directions. George felt a searing pain spread over his hand and down his arm, but he didn't care. He walked, his feet bare, back over towards the bed, sharp pains shooting up his leg as bits of the mirror pierced the soles of his feet. The warmth of blood drenched his arm, slowly and sickly dripping over his clean, white bed.

He heard a knock on the door, but before he could hide the blood or clean up the mirror, Charlie pushed open the door.

"George?" he walked straight in and sat next to George on the bed. "Look at you!" He picked up Georges hurt hand and muttered a few words. The wounds healed slightly, but there were still thin scars all over his hand, and blood stained his skin and clothes. "What have you done, you fool! What made you think punching the mirror would help?" Charlie said, laughing, trying to act jokingly but still not disguising the way he felt about what George was doing to himself.

George stared down at his hands, not wanting to look Charlie in the eyes. "I don't...I don't know. I suppose I got angry."

"With the mirror? It's not doing anything to you except show you your reflection, y'know George."

"But I'm not just seeing myself, don't you understand?" he shouted in anguish. "I see Fred! Every time I get even a glimpse of myself, he stares back at me. How could you even begin to imagine how that feels?"

"I see you, George, that's bad enough," he said quietly. At George's confused expression, he continued. "Do you think every time I see you, I don't see Fred, too? You don't think that, sometimes I see you and almost call you 'Fred'? We all have to see the image you see in the mirror, George. We all loved Fred as well."

George was silent. He wanted to say '_You never loved him as much as I did, he was my twin for crying out loud!' _But he didn't, he didn't say anything.

Charlie cleaned away the rest of George's blood and looked back at his younger brother. "You really hurt Mum, earlier today. She doesn't deserve for you to treat her like that."

George sighed. "I know, I was just...angry. I don't want to be treated like a child!"

"We aren't treating you like a child, George. We're only caring for you," Charlie said gently.

George turned away from his older brother. Although slightly comforted by Charlie's words, he wasn't going to let him know that.

Charlie stood up and headed towards the door. "Just, think about what I said, alright?" And he left the room, repairing the mirror as he left.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I updated, been caught up in exams and the like ¬.¬ And my piano teacher is like 'YOU DON'T PRACTICE ENOUGH' so now that is a priority. Brilliant. BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS :D And please review? It means a lot to me if you do (: And I will update as soon as I can, I am beginning chapter 13 right now. :P**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Ginny remained uncertain. It had sounded like him, exactly like him, but... it couldn't be. Maybe it was some kind of creature she'd never heard of, like a Boggart. She tiptoed towards the voice tentatively, her wand up.

"Who is it?" she said warningly. "This isn't funny."

"Ginny, what do you mean?" said the voice.

"How do you know my name?" she replied sharply.

The voice laughed; to anyone else, the laugh would have been light-hearted, but Ginny didn't trust the voice one bit.

"Seriously, Ginny, what's got into you? Of course I know your name!"

"I don't believe you! Come forwards, now, or Ill curse you!" she cried.

"Okay, okay, chill your beans," the creature said. _How did he know to say that?_ Ginny thought. Only two people she knew every said that.

A figure slowly emerged from the darkness. It was Fred, in every small detail. Except with one difference- this Fred was silvery and translucent, and for the first time since Ginny could remember, he was not smiling.

"Do you believe it's me, now?" he said.

Ginny opened her mouth a few times, but made no sound. She took a deep breath and finally managed to whisper "Yes".

Fred sighed in relief. "I'm glad you do. I've missed you all, you know."

"We've missed you too, you have no idea how much we have." She felt tears well up in her pale blue eyes, but she blinked them away.

"I am so sorry, Ginny," he said, his face pained. "I wish more than anything that this hadn't happened."

"There were always going to be losses. I just wish it wasn't you."

"But, I'm still here!" he said, finally smiling. "I get eternal life, surely that isn't too bad."

"Yeah, about that?" Ginny wondered aloud. "Why have you come back as a ghost when so many people haven't?"

"I'm not quite sure," he said, his face screwed up, "but I reckon I just wasn't ready to go. Mainly because..."

He trailed off. "Yes?" Ginny encouraged him to continue.

"I couldn't leave George," he whispered.

Ginny's heart softened at these words.

"So why are you here, in the Room of Requirement?" she asked him.

"Yeah, good question, actually Ginny. I have no idea, I've been wandering around in here for I don't know how long. I couldn't find my way out."

"I have been in here before," Ginny said. "I came in here with Harry once... this is where things are hidden. So you were... hidden?"

"Or lost," he finished. "This is Hogwarts, nothing makes sense to anyone."

"No, it doesn't..." Ginny stopped talking and simply stared at her brother. "How can I be sure... how can I know, for definate, that it's you?"

Fred looked back at her, lost in thought.

"Hmm, well...I know! Do you remember when it was mine and George's first day at Hogwarts, and you and Ron came with Mum and Dad to see us off? You were crying, and we both came up to you. George gave you a hug, and do you remember what I said? I told you to make sure that you tortured Ron while we were away, and to never let him forget his fear of spiders."

Ginny laughed weakly. "Fred, it's really you?"

"Yeah, it is, that's what I've been trying to tell you!" he said, smiling.

Ginny felt tears well up again, but this time she let them flow freely. She ran towards Fred to hug him, and went straight through him, cringing at the icy cold feeling that spread through her.

"Yeah... aside from the immortality and the fact I stay amazingly sexy forever, I don't really like that part of being a ghost." Ginny laughed, the first real laugh she'd had for a long time.

But Fred suddenly stopped laughing with her, and a serious look spread across his face.

"Ginny, what about George?"

She bit her lip. "He's...he's not really coping..."

Fed closed his eyes. "Dammit... the whole time I've been in here I've been worrying about him. He's okay, right?"

"I'm not absolutely sure... I haven't heard anything from them for a while."

"Well, how was he the last time you heard from them?" he said urgently.

"He was..." she trailed away, not wanting to say.

"Tell me!"

"George was missing... he'd run away. This was about a week ago, and I haven't heard anything since."

Fred looked outraged. "He ran _away? _And you all let him? There's only one of him, you must have been able to stop him somehow!"

"I'm sure they tried, you... you don't know what it's been like without you! Especially for him!"

"Ginny, we need to leave this room; get to the owlery and send a letter home. I can't leave Hogwarts... but George can come here. I need to see him..."

"Okay, come on then, I'll lead you out of here..." Ginny turned back and headed for the door. Fred followed and when they left the room he sighed in relief.

"Thank God I'm out of there at last... now, Ginny, find him, and get George here."

Ginny ran towards the owlery, thrilled that Fred was back, but worried about George. Fred was left alone.

He watched Ginny turn around the corner. All he could think about was George. If George had been the one who had died and not him, he knew he wouldn't have been able to cope. He hoped that George was stronger than him, but after what Ginny had said, he wasn't so sure. He cursed under his breath. Why did this have to happen? He missed George more than anything, and he would die again and again for him to be alright.

* * *

**A/N: So. There we go. This was definitely the hardest chapter to write, and I'm still not sure about it. If anyone has any tips on how to improve it, review and tell me, I would really appreciate it! Anyway, I hope you like this :)**

**Anyone else excited about Christmas? I AM :D**

**Back to the story.. please review? It makes it all worthwhile and only takes a second. So go on, press that little button, I dare you ;D**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14:**

As Ginny hurried towards the Owlery, leaving the silvery figure of Fred behind her, she felt elated. It was like part of her had been missing, and Fred had returned that part to her; now she was more complete than she had ever been.

But somewhere, deep down, there was still that tiny voice, niggling away at her. _You still don't know what's happened to George. He could be dead for all you know. _

_**No. **_She shoved the thought to the back of her head and concentrated on what she was going to write to her Mother.

She left the castle, blinking several times at the blinding sunlight. When her eyes had adjusted, she saw a familiar person striding towards her.

"Hagrid!" she cried. He looked around to see who had called him, and his eyes fell on her. He grinned beneath his enormous beard that she swore was getting bigger and bushier every time she saw him. It was now about the size of a small Christmas tree.

"'Ello Ginny! How's school? Yeh 'aven't bin down to see me lately!"

It was true- she hadn't. The last time she had seen him had been at the beginning of term, and he was still showing his battles scars. Now however, his bruises had healed nicely and the only sign of the battle was a long white scar that ran from the outer corner of his right eye down his cheek until it disappeared under his beard. Ginny didn't want to be suspicious, but she had an idea that Madam Pomfrey could easily remove it; she guessed Hagrid was keeping it as a mark of his part in the battle that defeated Voldermort.

"I know, I'm sorry Hagrid," she said. "I've been really busy with school work and everything. It is my last year..." she trailed off as Hagrid raised an eyebrow.

"Yeh sure yeh 'aven't just been wallowin' in yeh own misery? Seems to me tha' nearly all the folks who were in the battle are hidin' 'emselves away from the rest o' the world."

She felt herself turn red, but thankfully Hagrid knew not to press the subject.

"So, yeh headin' down to the Owlery? Who yeh sendin' a letter to?"

"Mum," she answered simply. She hesitated. Should she tell Hagrid about Fred? Hagrid wouldn't go telling everyone, she knew, and he had done so much for them over all these years. But then, if Mum found out that Hagrid had known before her, then she would go insane. Ginny decided the wrath of her mother was more dangerous than Hagrid's, and, feeling slightly guilty, she bid Hagrid farewell and entered the Owlery.

She sighed. She wished she had written the letter somewhere else now- the hundreds of owls staring at her were incredibly distracting. She felt like she was a murder suspect, and the owls were the jury. She shuddered- she found small owls like Pig adorable- but these were blatantly creepy.

She sat at the small table in the centre of the room, which was readily equipped with paper and ink, and began to write.

_Dear Mum,_

_I'm sorry I haven't written. I've been stressed about work and everything._

She laughed to herself at the obvious lie.

_I really hope you've found George, I've been worrying about him constantly since you told me he was missing. But there is something really important that I discovered not 15 minutes ago. There's no easy way to say it, so here goes. Fred's back. He's a ghost, here at Hogwarts. I found him in the Room of Requirement. It is him, I've checked in every way I could think of. He knew the personal things, so I'm positive it's him. _

_But you need to bring George to him. If you haven't found him already, find him. He needs to know. Not just for his own sake, but for Fred's. But there's one thing- don't tell George Fred is here- find some other way of getting him to Hogwarts, but under no circumstances let him know why. He won't believe it and I think it would kill him to hear something like that. _

_I'm sorry that this is the way you find out, but I can't think of an easier way to tell you. I know it's a shock, and please, don't cry. Then everyone will know something is up. Just think, you can come and see your son again. My life is complete again now. Maybe we can piece our family together again._

_Love, Ginny x_

She breathed in deeply, folded the letter, put it in the envelope, and sealed it. She gave it to the nearest owl, who squawked disgruntled, and flew out of the open window. She watched as it became a tiny speck in the distance. Now all she could do was wait.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, yes it's been ages. I was suddenly reminded to update by the Harry Potter DVD coming out yesterday :D**

**It's my final Easter holidays before I finish year 11, and then that's it, I've finished school. I should be revising right now, but I thought my favourite Weasley's were calling :P**

**And I have finally decided on my A Levels! I am taking 5, but I will drop one after the first month, whichever I don't like basically. I'm taking Biology, Chemistry, Maths, English Lit, and Music, so any advice or opinions on my choices are welcome :D**

**And actually on the story, this chapter was difficult to write, but not as bad as Chapter 13. Any advice, criticisms or opinions are very welcome, so please, REVIEW :D It makes it so much more worth it. And there are only a couple of chapters to go, and then that's it!**

**Wow, I ramble way too much...**

**So yeah.**

**BYE :D**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

George was still lying, motionless, on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

_Are you still there, Fred?_

There was no answer. George was infuriated with himself- he needed to stop pushing Fred away. Even if he was imagining Fred's voice completely, it was a small part of him all the same. And that was better than no Fred at all.

George knew he was treating his family badly; somehow, he didn't care. He knew he was being selfish but he just wanted them to understand the gaping hole in his heart that only Fred could fill.

Someone knocked on the door. He sighed.

"Come in."

The door opened and Molly stood in the frame. She looked like she had been crying, but that was normal for her now. George didn't ask what was wrong- that would only start her off again.

Molly walked in, shutting the door behind her, and she sat ahead of George on Fred's bed. He winced as the dust billowed around her, but she ignored it and surveyed him severely.

"George, we need to talk."

George said nothing. He knew something like this was going to happen, but he didn't want it to, all the same.

"I'm sorry, but we can't continue like this," she said, looking thoroughly uncomfortable but defiant. "The way you've been acting, it's frankly unfair to everyone and to yourself."

There was an awkward moment's silence.

"Yes, you're right," George finally admitted. Molly sucked in a breath but didn't interrupt him. "I have been selfish, and I'm sorry."

His mother looked like she was going to burst into tears again; she breathed in deeply and managed to control herself.

"Well, I still feel you need help. You aren't coping and...and I want to take you back to Hogwarts."

He tensed at the thought of going back there, the last place he had seen Fred. The place where he had died.

Molly moved to sit next to George on his bed. "So, what do you say? Will you come with me?"

"I don't see... the point, really. Why do you want me to go back?"

Molly hesitated. "I just, I think you need the closure, you know? Maybe once you've been back there you could start to get your life back together. And we could do with visiting Ginny anyway, we haven't seen her for weeks and weeks."

"Well... I suppose I could." _Anything to keep you off my back._

* * *

Hogwarts was beautiful. George marvelled at the sight of the towering turrets against the azure blue sky. The temperature was bitter cold, well below freezing, and a glittering frost blanketed the grass; the lake was frozen solid, and George smiled slightly when he saw a group of what looked like first years skating around the edges of the lake. He remembered the days when it was Fred and him skating on the lake, but the difference was, they would always venture into the middle of the lake. Stupid, he knew, but that was what they did, constantly pushing the boundaries...

"Come on George, dear, we need to get inside, its nearly time for lunch, and the headmistress kindly said we could join them." George abruptly snapped out of his daydream and turned to look at his Mother. She smiled at him, surprisingly cheerful, and moved to stand next to him. "Come, it's all fine," she said softly, "Hogwarts is just as it always was."

George grimaced weakly and walked slowly up to the huge doors. They swung open at his touch- Filch was standing behind the doors, obviously waiting for them. He glared at George- clearly memories of his and Fred's reign at Hogwarts was still haunting him. He pushed himself awkwardly past the caretaker and Molly followed, who briefly smiled at the old man but her face fell when she got the same evil glare that he had dealt George.

The two Weasley's hurried to the Great Hall quickly to avoid the situation, and were thankful to discover that there were still students making their way to lunch; they joined the crowd and made their way to the Gryffindor table. Ginny was already there, Luna sitting next to her (clearly ignoring the house table rule). Ginny grinned when she saw them, jumping up to greet her mother with a brief hug. She then stood in front of George, examining him, and pulled him into a tight hug.

"I've been really worried about you George," she said when she pulled back. "I'm so glad to see you, you've no idea."

George smiled at his younger sister. "Yeah, I've missed you too, Ginny." She looked elated at this simple statement and beckoned him to sit on the other side of her. Molly walked around the other side and sat ahead of them.

"So, er, how are you then Ginny?" Molly said, her eye on George, still looking worried.

"I'm much better recently, to be honest Mum," she said, taking a bowl of what looked like some kind of soup, "I suppose everything is just getting easier now, with time."

George looked away, not wanting to meet their eyes. He blanked out; their banter didn't interest him. He took the time instead to survey his surroundings. He noticed a lot of the students were looking at him; some looked slightly nervous, as if he was going to explode and attack them; some looked sad, as if they pitied him; some, all from the Slytherin table, were laughing at him. He'd had enough- he was not there to be a spectacle. He pushed his chair back and stood up.

"I'm not staying here, I just...can't."

Ginny stood up quickly. "Where are you going? I'll come with you."

"No, Ginny, don't worry, I'll be fine. I'll come back, I won't disappear." At her suspicious expression, he added "I promise."

He turned on his heel and left, the eyes of many students, his sister and his mother following him out.

He took a deep breath when he stood out of the hall. He hated huge crowds of people now. He used to relish them- they gave him the attention he and Fred strived for. But now, he hated it. They were looking at him for the wrong reasons.

George found himself walking through the corridors. He knew exactly where he was going. His head was screaming at him._ Don't go there, please, anywhere but there! _His feet still kept moving.

As he passed them, he heard portraits muttering to each other and saw them pointing. He ignored them.

It took him ten minutes to reach the destination at the other end of the castle. There were suits of armour lining the walls, and new paintings had been hung up, and yet there were still signs of the explosion here. The walls in some places were lighter, newer; there were huge cracks in some of the older parts of the walls and the floor had also been replaced in places.

George stood still, staring at the empty corridor. Everything was silent- the portraits had stopped muttering and were watching him with curious expressions. Nothing had changed, except for new stone walls and occasional tiles on the floor and ceiling. There was nothing obvious to show that there had ever been a battle there. George felt disappointed, in a way. _What had I expected? A monument to Fred? _But there was nothing.

George felt horribly empty. He had hoped for some kind of revelation. He had hoped for part of his broken soul to be put together again. For some of the pain to go away. He had been wrong. This was just a building, there was nothing here to help him.

It was then that George heard a sound, something like a soft gust of wind. He wheeled around but there was nothing there. He turned back around and there, at the other end of the corridor, was a figure. It was a ghost, silver and translucent. George looked at it's face, unable to distinguish it. And then the face became familiar to him.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Not here. This was not happening. The _couldn't _be happening. When he opened his eyes again the figure was still there.

This was it. He was finally going mad. He knew it was coming. He'd been hearing Fred's voice for long enough, after all. But this was too much, it was too... _real. _

Fred was still, watching George's every move, almost... _wary _of him, George thought. It was then that the figure spoke.

"George?"

George broke. Tears began to flow, but not so much out of grief than of anger at himself. "_No! _This isn't you! Just... leave me alone!" He voice cracked. _"Please!" _he pleaded, "I've had enough, this is too much! Please, _go!"_ He turned around and ran, he didn't know where, he simply had to get away.

While he ran, his head was reeling. He felt dizzy and nauseous, and yet he kept running. _This is it now, Fred. I'm going mad. I'm not just talking to you, I'm seeing you, too. _

"_Stop, now, George!" _George couldn't tell if it was the voice in his head or the figure he had now imagined that was calling him, yet he kept running. He could see his surroundings sliding out of focus and his body was weakening. He kept running.

"_George! Stop, please!" _The voice was still calling him. He kept running.

George clamped his hands to either side of his head. _I'm going mad, I'm going mad, I'm going mad..._

He collapsed, the same words going over and over in his head as he slipped into unconsciousness.

_I'm going mad..._

* * *

**A/N: Phew! Now this was a beast of a chapter to write, I've been working on this for a few hours now, which is much longer than I normally spend, so I hope this chapter worked out. Sorry if the ending was confusing, I think it worked, but it's late, I'm confusing myself slightly XD Review! :D**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

George came to gradually. He could hear a faint murmur in the room around him; the light behind his lids was bright even though he kept them squeezed shut. Slowly, the voices around him became clearer: Ginny, talking in a soft voice, perhaps so as not to wake George, and his Mother. They both seemed to be conversing with who was definitely Madam Pomfrey- George had heard her voice hundreds of times before when he or Fred had been injured from experiments, Quidditch, pranks, or basically anything. He felt a sharp pang at the though of Fred, but he pushed it away, and tried to concentrate on the voices around him.

"_He will wake up, won't he?" _

"_Yes, no doubt of it. He's perfectly healthy physically, if a little thin. It's just his mind we need to worry about. He's been through a massive ordeal."_

George laughed to himself. _You have no idea._ The voices stopped abruptly, and he felt a cold hand on his.

"_George? Open your eyes, dear."_

It was his Mother. George took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

Molly sighed in relief. "Thank God you've woken up. We were so worried when you ran out of the Great Hall, let alone when we got news that you were in the hospital wing!"

Ginny moved to sit on the other side of his bed. "You'd collapsed, on the sixth floor I think it was."

George blinked, his eyes adjusting to his surroundings. There was Madam Pomfrey, standing nearby, smiling slightly. "_I think this is the first time I've ever been in here without her shouting at me for being 'foolish'"_ he thought to himself. Then his eyes fell on another figure, standing well out of the way at the other end of the hospital wing, watching, with a careful look on his face.

"No, no, not again!" George cried out desperately. He squeezed his eyes shut, clamping his hands on either side of his head as if trying to crush the insanity out of him, shaking his head violently. "I'm going mad, Mum, I'm going mad!"

His mother leapt up, staring around bewilderedly. "Poppy, do something!" she said in anguish, attempting to sooth George by stroking his hair, as he rocked backwards and forwards with his head in his hands.

Madam Pomfrey rushed forwards and tried to convince George to lean back against his bed, but he was in hysterics.

"I wish you'd just leave me alone!" he shouted franticly. "You should never have brought me here- and _no I won't calm down!_ Can't you all see him?" He pushed Molly to the side and pointed to the figure at the opposite end of the room, shaking violently.

"Yes, we can see him," said Ginny quietly.

George stopped shaking abruptly. "Come again?"

"We can see him too. You aren't imagining him."

There was an intense silence, and then George sighed and leant back against his pillow. "It's fine, you don't have to pretend for my sake. I know I'm imagining him."

"George?" This voice was not female, and the ghost of Fred was finally moving towards the bed. George's eyes widened in fear.

"We heard that, George. We heard him talk." Mrs Weasley took George's hand and squeezed it. "You aren't going mad. He really is there."

George looked like he was going to faint. "I...I don't understand..."

Ginny took George's other hand. "I know, it's a lot to take in. Fred was lost... I found him in the Room of Requirement, simply by chance..." George was shaking again; not out of hysterics as before, but this time out of shock.

"I don't believe you."

Madam Pomfrey stepped in this time. "It's unlikely to happen, Mr Weasley, but it's possible. Your brother could have come back as a ghost for many reasons. Its been known for humans to stay in the world of the living because they died a traumatic death, they had a strong connection to the place they died, or, which is the most common, they feared death."

George had turned pale and he looked more gaunt than ever; the news that he was not going crazy didn't seem to reassure him in the slightest.

Fred, who was moving at a snail's pace, finally reached the bed, saying nothing. His expression was unreadable to all of them, except to George. George recognised it immediately.

"Why do you feel guilty?" George's tone was not accusing. Mrs Weasley, Ginny and Madam Pomfrey all stared at George in confusion.

Fred smiled slightly, but in a flash it was gone. "I don't feel guilty, Georgie."

"Yes, you do. I'd recognise it immediately. It's not like we ever used that expression very often." Molly concealed a grin- George was sounding better every second.

"'_Use' _George. We aren't the past tense. We're the present."

"Okay, fine. It's not like we ever _use _that expression very often."

"No, I suppose we don't."

"So go on, why do you feel guilty?"

Fred didn't look like he was going to answer any question like that at that moment. Ginny stood up. "We'll, er, go back to the Hall. I'm still hungry anyway..." she said, and with that she dragged her mother up off the side of the bed and they pair left. Madam Pomfrey wandered over to her office on the side of the hospital wing and entered, shutting the door behind her. Fred and George were alone.

Fred sighed. "I'm sorry, Georgie." George surveyed his expression- guilt, definitely, as he had said before, but there was something else in his eyes. Like a deep, unreachable pain that was eating at him.

"Fred, why are you sorry? I don't get where you're coming from here. Nothing that's happened was your fault."

"I _died _George! I think that is my fault." George winced at Fred's harsh tone; obviously he had done so visibly, as Fred immediately added: "I didn't mean to say it like that... I just wish none of this had ever happened."

"Yeah, so do I, Fred." George's glances at Fred were still wary, as if he couldn't believe he was there, and was worried he would disappear any moment.

Fred hesitated, as if he was going to say something, but then decided otherwise. However, George had seen the movement.

"What were you going to say? Don't pretend you weren't going to, I saw you."

Fred looked George full in the eyes. "Just... why did you do it? Why did you have to run away and treat our family like you did? It wasn't their fault that I got killed..."

"Fred, how can you even begin to know what it's like!" he defended angrily. "Yes, maybe I shouldn't have treated them like that, but you don't know how I felt. I thought I'd _never_ see you again, that I'd have to live the rest of my life not as a Weasley twin, but just as George. I never want that- it's Fred and George. Not just one of us, both of us, in it together."

Fred smiled- the first real smile he had pulled since he had found George in the corridor where he had died."Yeah, you're right Georgie. I don't think I would have been able to cope either. I mean, how could you possibly live a normal life without me? I'm perfect."

For the first time since that fateful night when George had lost a brother for what he had thought was forever, George laughed.

"I've missed you, so much Fred."

"I've missed you too George." George noticed that any expression of guilt or paint that had been present before was now gone. "Now, I've had enough of this, it's too soppy for my liking, and I'd bet my life- if I was alive- that you've had enough of it too. So what do you say we get back to planning new experiments for the shop?" George raised his eyebrow. "Yes, you will have to do them since I am unable to move anything any more; quite tiresome if I'm honest. But I was always the one with the brains anyway."

"Ha! You wish. I suppose we will find some way around trying to reverse the roles, since I was the one who always came up with the ideas and _you _were the one who enjoyed the explosions..."

Madam Pomfrey watched from her office as the Weasley in the bed gradually regained colour in his cheeks as he laughed with his twin. She grinned and was glad, if only one person got to have their loved one back, that it was George.

* * *

**A/N: So that's it! Don't worry, I'm not finishing it like this, there WILL be an epilogue. However, before I write that I am going back over this whole story and editing it. Adding in some more speech, maybe changing some small details, but none of the main storyline will be changed. Also, I need to get rid of the MANY type errors I have made throughout. But yes, I hope you like this, it was definitely the hardest chapter to write. I hope you liked it though, and if not, tell me why and I will try to change it as I go through to edit (: So keep a look out for the epilogue, and also I have a new Fred and George story in my head that I'm hoping to start. And finally, THANK YOU if you've read this story all the way through to here, even with my constant ramblings in my A/N at the end. It's a habit I must get out of. I'll shut up now...**

**Thanks for reading, and please review (:**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Eideard sat outside his hut with an empty mug of what had been a herbal blend that Rhoswen had created for him. It was snowing- again. The fresh layer of snow glistened under the lights of the suspended orbs and fireflies; it was totally silent. The rest of the tribe had long gone to bed, but Eideard was uneasy and couldn't sleep. It had been over a month now since George's family had taken him off his hands, yet Eideard was worried for the young wizard.

What if he had never recovered? What if he was dead now? Eideard knew exactly what grief could do to a person, but George was _too young_.

As he sat watching the fireflies floating aimlessly around his head, he heard a crack that he immediately recognised as the sound made when a person apparates. He jumped up, wand at the ready, immediately on guard.

"Put your wand down! I'm here in peace!" Eideard lowered his wand, suddenly smiling. He recognised that voice.

"George!" He rushed forwards, and as the person in question emerged from the shadows, Eideard pulled him into a hug.

"You... you look great," he said, smiling at the young red-head. It was true- George's hair was shorter and neat, he was clean shaven, and his face was no where near as thin and pale as it had been. There was colour in his cheeks, and he wore a thick, green and white striped jumper with a large 'G' in the middle. The greatest difference, however, was the fact that he was smiling too.

"Thanks, Eideard. I'm so sorry my family just took me away like that... I couldn't even say goodbye. And thank you. Thank you for everything." George put his hand on Eideard's shoulder. "I really appreciate it."

"I'm so glad you're okay. You seem so much better than you were when I last saw you."

George grinned, a mischievous smile that was unknown to Eideard but very well remembered by anyone who had known the twins before that fateful night in May.

"Yeah, well there is a reason for that. Fred's back."

Eideard looked baffled. "Excuse me?"

"Yep, I said it. Fred's back."

"W...What? How? I mean, I know you're clever and everything George, but I didn't think even you could find a way to fight Death himself." Eideard shook his head in bewilderment, and George laughed.

"I know, I am _that _amazing. But I didn't bring him back. He's a ghost, back at Hogwarts." At Eideard's confused expression, he explained, "Hogwarts is my school. That's where Fred was killed."

"So... let me get this straight. Your twin brother, Fred, was killed at Hogwarts, your school-"

"-in a battle against the greatest Dark Wizard of all time-" George interrupted.

"- okay, yes, I'm trying not to confuse myself even more. So Fred was killed at your old school Hogwarts, in a battle against a Dark Lord-"

"-Voldemort."

"-and now he's back as a ghost. Right. This is... quite a lot to take in."

"I know, how do you think I coped?" George was laughing again, an unfamiliar but beautiful laugh.

"I'd be willing to bet you didn't cope so well."

"No... I didn't. But now he's back, and life is more amazing than it ever was."

"But... George, you do realise he's a ghost? It's not going to be the same. You're going to age, and he won't. You'll... you'll die eventually."

George winced. "I know. But we will cross that bridge when it comes to it. For now, I'm not alone any more."

Eideard looked carefully at the young wizard. Yes, he did look happier, healthier, but Eideard still worried for him. Soon, the true realisation of their situation would hit.

"Well, I'm glad for you. Really I am. I just hope it goes well."

George's smile faded. "It will, Eideard, I swear. We will _make _it work."

Eideard grinned, deciding not to make his friend unhappy. If he was glad for the moment, then he would be too.

"That's brilliant, if anyone could make it work, it would be you." He patted George on the arm. "Come on then, let's go get a drink, and you can tell me everything about Fred. I bet he's brilliant, if he's exactly like you."

"He is." George began to laugh again. "He is brilliant."

* * *

Eideard sat back in his chair, a glass of butter beer in his right hand. George had just left, after hours of telling him about his twin. Eideard didn't know what to think. Of course, he was thrilled that George was happy again, that his grieving was over. But he was worried. Very worried.

Eideard took a sip of the butter beer. He had never had butter beer before; George had brought it with him, but he certainly loved the drink. Especially in the extreme north of Scotland, the warm feeling that spread through him was very welcome.

He sighed. George was a puzzle to him. He seemed so happy, and yet his twin was now going to see him grow old and die. It wasn't that he was selfish- no, of course George wasn't selfish. But it seemed that he was blinded. Fred was 'back', and that was all that mattered to him right now.

* * *

It's a strange thing, the way another person's life can worry you even more than your own does. Eideard had this problem for weeks after their meeting. George was worrying him, and finally he decided what he would do. He was going to visit them. George had given him an address, so Eideard stood up, kissed his wife goodbye and Disapparated.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, feel free to kill me. I've decided to add this chapter before the epilogue. I hope you like it? Please review, and tell me what you would like to see in the true epilogue. Thanks for reading! **


	18. Epilogue

**A/N: Okay, here we go. The epilogue. I just want to say thank you for anyone who has reviewed and favourited, I wasn't expecting 20 reviews let alone 85+! But please, please review for one last time. I would be happiest person ever if I got 100 reviews for this, good or bad :P Thanks for reading, and for sticking with me until the end of this :P Keep a look out for any new stories of mine, I have some one shots floating around in my head and a new multi chapter about Ron and Hermione written down in plan form. Of course, George will be in it for all you avid Forge fans, like me (hence my pen-name). So I will hopefully make a start on that when I get the time! I'll stop waffling now, and get writing. Thanks again!**

Epilogue

Eideard shook his head around, clearing the slightly dizzy feeling one gets when one Apparates. He felt slightly nervous- he hadn't been in such a public place for years and years, and this place was definitely public. He found himself in a hugely crowded alley, with masses of stalls lining each side, almost completely blocking the many fascinating shops that stood behind them.

Eideard began to walk down the alley, searching for any sign of a bright eyed red-head. He passed the Owl Emporium, where all kinds of creatures gave him glassy stares, and a huge book store called Flourish and Blotts that was overflowing with what were probably Hogwarts students. Then his eyes were drawn to another building.

His mouth fell open. Up ahead, next to a shop that would otherwise have looked bright and cheerful by selling such ice creams, stood an enormous establishment brimming with life. Hundreds of children stood outside, waiting excitedly to get inside (as it was quite clearly full), and a young, smiling woman with blonde hair stood at the doorway controlling the number of entrants.

Eideard couldn't quite see clearly what was in the windows, but over the heads of the children he would vaguely make out large clouds of multi-coloured smoke, and small exploding fireworks.

But it wasn't all of this that made his mouth hit the floor. No, it was this: above a sign reading 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' that flashed different colours, was two large, cartoon heads. The faces were smiling, and they were identical, from the flaming red hair to the bright blue eyes that glittered, whether from magic or sunlight he could not say.

"Impressed?" a voice said in his ear. He hastily shut his mouth to prevent his looking like a goldfish and turned towards whoever had spoken to him. Mrs Weasley was standing there, another red-headed girl and young man with black hair and round glasses with her.

"Impressed isn't quite the word," he replied truthfully. "If there was anything I was expecting, it definitely wasn't this."

The younger woman grinned and stepped forward. "No, seeing George a few weeks ago, none of us would have expected it." She held out her hand for Eideard to shake. "I'm Ginny by the way, Ginny Weasley. Fred and George's younger sister." He shook her outstretched hand and opened his mouth to introduce himself, but she interrupted him before he had the chance. "You're Eideard, right? I've heard all about you, and if I'm not mistaken, we have a lot to thank you for."

"No, no..." he stammered, "nothing to say thank you for. I did what any normal human being would do..."

Mrs Weasley interrupted him this time. "Don't be silly, Eideard. None of this would have happened if it weren't for you." And she pulled him into a hug, a custom that the bewildered man was unused to but did not mind in the least.

When she drew back, the man with the untidy black hair stepped forward. "I'm Harry, Harry Potter," he said, shaking his hand, "and I can tell you, this is a nice change to be able to actually tell someone my name without them knowing it already." He grinned and exchanged knowing glances with the two Weasley women, although Eideard was confused at this. "But even though I'm not a Weasley-", Ginny giggled, "-I still owe you my eternal gratitude. You probably won't believe me, but I blame myself for any deaths that occurred over the war and you prevented another one. So thank you, from the bottom of the my heart." With that he sunk behind the two women with a red face, looking awkward and embarrassed. Eideard smiled and bowed his head to acknowledge the thanks, and then Mrs Weasley spoke up once more.

"So, shall we take you in? It's even better inside." Eideard followed the two Weasleys and Harry to the door. He heard Mrs Weasley say to the young blonde: "let us in Daisy, there's a dear. We're here to see George," and the woman stood aside. The four entered the shop and Eideard gasped once more.

The inside of the shop was even more incredible and overwhelming than the exterior had been, and Eideard wished he had more eyes.

Stacks and stacks of boxes, jars and packets of sweets adorned the walls. He watched as a boy aged about thirteen or fourteen ate a minuscule, bright pink sweet that caused his head to immediately swell like a balloon to four times its original size, and made the boy float up the ceiling and bob there until he ate another sweet (blue this time) that deflated him and brought him gently back to the ground.

Many other products that the bewildered man noticed were wands that jumped a foot away every time a person tried to pick it up; gnomes that had been paralysed and dressed up in various outfits as either a decoration or what Harry explained as a 'scarecrow', used to warn away other gnomes in a garden; pairs of bracelets of necklaces that two people would wear and would cause the voices of the pair to swap bodies; pens that would splatter you in bright green ink if you made a grammatical or spelling error, and much more.

Eideard was just stroking the Pygmy Puffs, which were very amusing to him, when he heard another familiar voice behind him.

"So, you've come." Eideard wheeled round and saw the grinning face of George, who was dressed in a bright purple suit with an orange and green striped tie.

"Of course I did," he answered, and pulled the young man into a hug, as Mrs Weasley had done to him. George was surprised that the wild man was showing such affection, but he didn't mind at all and hugged him back. "George, I'd never have believed it," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Who could have guessed you could have done this?"

"Not me, the both of us. Fred and I," he replied. "If anyone could have pulled it off, it's definitely us."

"You're right there," he said, laughing. "I can officially say that my worries are now diminished."

"Do you want me to show you round then?" George said mischievously, winking at his friend. "You can take whatever you want, I think that tribe leader woman of yours definitely needs cheering up."

Eideard chuckled at the thought of Alva screeching as her face exploded in pimples after he had given her a sweet. He was certainly going to try it on Rhoswen, even if he didn't dare pull a joke on Alva. He followed George around the rest of the shop, fascinated by the wonders that the twins had done. If there was any time he had been proved the most wrong, it was now.

* * *

_14 years later..._

It was a bright, mild day at Kings Cross on September 1st. Eideard took his youngest child's hand. Her name was Aithne, and like her father, she had wild, dark brown hair and electric blue eyes. On Eideard's other side walked Drew, and he was eleven, his hand running nervously through his blonde hair, which he had inherited from his mother, and his hazel eyes keenly surveying his surroundings.

Eideard felt almost as nervous as Drew. It had taken George a long time to convince Eideard to send Drew to Hogwarts, but Eideard still had doubts. No tribe member had ever been educated at a proper school of magic, and he was worried that Drew simply wouldn't... fit in. Aithne, meanwhile, was only seven and she had no such concerns.

"How long will you be gone for Drew?" she whined, pulling her hand from Eideard's and taking her brother's instead. "I don't want you to go!"

"Don't you worry, I'll be back before you know it," Drew told his little sister, smiling, although his stomach was churning with the nerves. "You'll be absolutely fine at home, and Dad takes you to see Roxanne all the time! Maybe you can go stay with the Weasley's, like I did."

"Speaking of Weasleys," Eideard interrupted, grinning, "here come some of them now." Drew turned his head to see Harry and Ginny approaching, with James, Albus and Lily all pushing a trolley of their own.

"Hey Eideard!" Ginny said, hugging the man. "I'm so glad to see you here! Trust me, Drew will _love _it there!"

Lily walked forwards, smiling at Drew. The two had never met, but they had heard much about each other. "It's my first year too," she said. "Stick with me and then maybe it will be less terrifying for the both of us."

Albus rolled his eyes. "Terrifying? You must be joking. Hogwarts is the best place in the world."

"I definitely remember you being petrified of ending up in Slytherin two years ago," Harry said slyly to his son. Albus went red; he and James left the small group and walked straight through the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

"Come on," Ginny beckoned to Eideard and his children. "Follow us, you'll go through the wall I promise."

"It's less solid than it looks," Harry directed at Drew, winking at the boy.

Lily went first, and then Drew ran at the barrier with his eyes closed. When the pair had gone, they were followed by Eideard, Aithne, Ginny and Harry. Eideard smiled when he appeared on the crowded platform, as he had noticed another familiar family.

George moved towards them, followed by Angelina and their children. Roxanne, a smaller than average girl with black hair and dark brown eyes rushed forwards to Aithne, who had become fast friends through the occasional visits the two families made with each other. The girls began to chatter animatedly and forgot anyone else was there. Fred, meanwhile, greeted Drew. Fred, a confident boy of 13, also had dark brown eyes like his mother, but he had flaming red hair that fell over his eyes. If it was anyone else, the combination of mixed race skin and bright red hair would have looked strange, but Fred had looks that complimented the mix perfectly. In fact, he was what most of the girls in his year called 'a looker'.

"You nervous?" Fred asked Drew, brushing his too long hair out of his eyes. "I definitely was this time two years ago, so don't worry yourself. You aren't the only one." He looked over at their younger sister's and grinned. "It will be their turn in 4 years. Then you'll wonder why the hell you got so stressed on your first day."

Nearby, George was talking to Eideard.

"I swear, you've made the right decision," the red-head said to the wild Celt. "He will have a _great _time. And like Lily said, they're both starting this year, so he won't be alone. And Fred will look after him." He laughed, and corrected himself. "_Both _Fred's will look after him."

Angelina interrupted him and called: "It's three minutes to everyone, get on the train!"

Drew broke away from Fred and rushed up to his father. "I'll be in Gryffindor Dad, I promise," he said fiercely. "Don't worry about me." And with that he gave Eideard and Aithne a quick hug and followed Fred and Lily onto the train.

Eideard watched as the train drew away from the platform and disappeared into the distance.

"I can't help but worry, George," he told his friend. "But you're right. It's the best thing for him."

George patted him on the arm. "Definitely. I'll check up on him tonight anyway. Fred and I have shop business."

Eideard raised his eyebrow. "Twin Fred, I presume?" George laughed and nodded.

"Of course. But keep it quiet. Angelina still doesn't know how often I go there." He looked around comically, as if he was hiding from the Authorities or something similar. "I sneak there every time she goes outside to water the garden. She's crazy with those bloody plants, I swear..."

Eideard snorted with laughter. Angelina turned from her conversation with Ginny and Harry and gave the two men a piercing look. George coughed and tried to distract her from the suspicious glare she was dealing them.

"Shall we all go get a drink at the Three Broomsticks? I think that's Ron and Hermione I see over there, talking to Bill and Fleur no less..." And he hurried away, Angelina following him.

"I heard you complaining about my garden! Maybe if once in a while you would get off your backside..."

Eideard howled with laughter along with Harry and Ginny and the three walked slowly behind the bickering couple, before the group turned on the spot and disappeared.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, that's it! This chapter has taken me a long time but I'm pretty happy with how it's turned out! I hope you like this ending, I've always imagined George and Angelina to be like this, always bickering, but awesome none-the-less. Mainly because George would never grow up and Angelina has clearly always been the mature one XD**

**Anyway, I really hope you like it, and the two new characters that are Drew and Aithne! I've introduced these two as a possibility for a sequel if an idea ever hits me, which it probably will at some point. But yes, please tell me what you think of the characters that I introduced through the whole story, particularly Eideard, who I've rather fallen in love with :P. Please please please review, it only takes 30 seconds and this has taken me hours, and I would be eternally in your gratitude. Thanks again for sticking with me through this whole thing, I appreciate it so much!**


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